


Home.

by generoe (TWolves51)



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Episode: s01e06 Bastogne, M/M, Please read, and after, shit happens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-19
Updated: 2015-01-19
Packaged: 2018-03-08 04:29:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3195356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TWolves51/pseuds/generoe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They find a way. Somehow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ColdeLinke](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ColdeLinke/gifts).



“It’s fucking cold.” Malarkey’s voice carried over to where Doc was shivering in his own foxhole. 

“No shit, Malark.” Doc heard Penkala reply, Doc’s lips quirked in what could have been a smile. 

~

Doc curled himself tighter into his foxhole, trying to chase some last vestige of warmth out of the soil or his clothes. It was as though God had sucked in one huge breath taking all of the sun, grass, leaves with Him. Even as he had tied up Lieutenant Welsh’s leg not three hours earlier (he stopped his thoughts from following down the path of blue headscarf he had found), it had felt as though the man’s blood was cold. Men weren’t supposed to have cold blood, that was for snakes and the alligators that roamed the swamps near his home.

Footsteps crunched on the edge of his foxhole, followed by a thump as slightly warmer body then his own pressed down into the dirt beside him. Doc knew it was Heffron. The breath that left the man’s mouth hitched as though he was going to burst into a coughing fit at any moment. Heffron was silent for a moment as though trying to keep the coughing at bay, then he said.

“Ya know, Doc? You’re always telling us to stay two to a foxhole so we’ll stay warm, but you ain’t in a foxhole with someone.” His tone was almost accusatory as though it mattered to him if the company medic was ok or not.

“Medics can’t stay two to a hole, so Spina has his and I have mine.” Doc said it like that was the simplest answer there was. He didn't add that Lieutenant Dike had ordered it be so because he felt safer that way. 

“Shit, you’ll freeze to death and then where would we be, huh?” Heffron said, huffing out a sarcastic laugh that quickly turned into a coughing fit. Doc looked on with a detached concern, he knew he should help but he didn’t have the tools too, so instead he wordlessly handed his canteen to Heffron. It was taken with a grateful nod of thanks and Heffron drank. Doc watched as Heffron realized that the liquid in the canteen was not water, but in fact whiskey. Heffron handed it back with a surprised look.

“How the fuck ya get that?” Heffron asked, something akin to wonder in his voice. 

“If I told you I’d have to kill you.” Doc’s mouth turned upward at the corners in a faint smile. Heffron fell silent after that and for a while the only sound was the whistling of the wind through the shell blown trees and the not-so-distant sound of a machine gun. Doc glanced over at Heffron, his eyes were closed, his breathing even, with only the slightest catch, and his face was relaxed in sleep. Doc sighed and wrapped an arm around the younger man, trying to keep him warm with what little body heat he had left. Heffron curled tighter and pressed himself into Doc’s side as though sensing that he needed the shared warmth as much as Heffron himself. Doc closed his eyes and tried to slip away into the embrace of sleep, before the inevitable cry for "Medic!" could be heard through the shell shocked trees and he would have to rise once again and care for his men.

~

There wasn’t much change in their behavior toward each other after that. Maybe Heffron gave Doc longer looks than just glances and maybe Doc wished Heffron would come talk to him again. But they stay away from each other. Doc alone with his thoughts and prayers and nightmares of a broken woman trapped beneath the bones of a church. Heffron with his South Philly boys, Guarnere and Spina, not at all wishing he could talk to quiet medic who had comforted him after Julian’s death (at least that’s what he told himself). That was how it remained. Together in thought, but separate in action. Until Guarnere and Toye were hit.

Doc heard the yelling first. Heard Toye’s cracked “Gotta get up… Gotta get up…” and he ran, ran like hell, until the Krauts started shelling again. He slid into a vacant foxhole, heart hammering hoping Babe was alright and that Toye could just hold on. The explosions around him shook the ground, the air filling with dirt and smoke and when they finally quieted it was almost too quiet. Then he heard Lieutenant Compton’s distinct voice yelling for him, for “Medic!” and he was on his feet again racing across shell torn ground. 

The scene was too familiar, Toye, leg gone, face white, Guarnere, leg mangled, voice not at all quavering. Doc set to work, putting out of his mind the thought that men died of less. He tied the bandage quickly and efficiently around the stump of Toye’s leg, while at the same time directing the stretcher bearers to remove Guarnere first. Toye was smoking carefully as if the shock was still keeping the pain away and he looked at Doc for a second and said, as the stretcher bearers picked him up. “Take care o’ Babe, Doc. Make sure he don’t get hurt too fuckin’ bad.” 

Doc nodded and Toye lay back on the cot, cigarette sliding from his fingers.

~

Later when the sky was getting darker and the cold seemed to close in even further, Doc went looking for Babe. His feet crunched softly on the snow and he wondered when Heffron had become Babe in his mind. He knelt lifting the edge of a canvas covering a hole, the hole that Babe had once shared with Guarnere. He thumped down, pulling the canvas down over them. There was a small gas burner that burned with the fierce intent of one not easily put out. 

“Leave a little hole, for the smoke.” Came the quiet voice beside him. Doc reached up and flipped a corner of the canvas up. “Whataya want, Doc? Morphine? I ain’t got no morphine.”

“No, don’t want morphine.” Doc replied, willing Babe to look at him. The other man just stared at the gas burner, eyes wide.

“Then why the fuck ya here, huh?” Babe asked, but it was question that was left unanswered, Doc couldn’t or wouldn’t reply. The truth was, he didn’t really know why he was there, stuffed into a foxhole with a grieving man. Maybe it was because he was just as desperate for a friend as Babe was desperate for his friends. Maybe… there were too many maybes. 

“Ya think they’ll be alright?” Babe’s tough guy tone from only moment before was replaced with the fractured tones of one who has lost those he loves. Doc tucked an arm around Babe. 

“They’ll be fine, Babe. Da two o’ them are tougher than nails.” The quiet reassurance in Doc’s tone must have done something to cheer Babe up because he sat up a little straighter and turned, as much as space would allow, and looked Doc in the face.

“Ain’t that right! Ol’ Gonorrhea’ll push through. Toye too.” Babe’s eyes lost that scary vacant look. “Say, Doc, you never speak about home. Share a couple stories, keep us warm ‘till I gotta blow up some more Kraut ass.” Babe’s face was lit with curiosity and a touch of pensiveness, as though he wasn’t quite sure if Doc would answer. Doc’s mouth curved into a small smile, and although every nerve in his body was screaming at him for making a friend out of this half broken boy, he told Babe about home.

“I grew up in Bayou Chene, down in Louisiana. My Mama’s a laundry woman and my Papa’s a wood cutter. That’s the guy that go out on the Bayou and cut down the big trees that get in the way of boats. I used to ride with my dad when I was just a kid and watch him cut down huge trees. Trees so big they’d put these to shame.” Gene fell silent for moment, dropping from ‘Doc’ into Eugene Roe, late of Bayou Chene, Louisiana. Babe smiled and leaned his head back against the cold dirt behind them, trying to imagine a little Doc running around a Bayou. “By Christmas time,” Gene continued. “My sister would take ou’ Papa’s newspapers and burn ‘em up until they were white ashes. Then, on Christmas Eve she’d spread ‘em around like snow and my Mama would make the spiciest Gumbo in our side o’ Bayou. Damn, Babe, you ain’t never tasted anything like my Mama’s Gumbo.” Babe nodded his head in agreement (anything to keep Doc-Eugene-Gene, talking). “My grandma used to come over sometimes and she’d tell us scary stories about Voodoo and witch doctors until ou’ Papa would tell her to stop filling ou’ heads with nonsense.” Gene trailed off a smile flitting swiftly, like hummingbird’s wing across his face. “I miss home, dammit.”

“Don’t we all, Gene. Don’t we all.” Babe sighed and glanced sidelong at Gene. “I gotta say dat’s the most I eva’ heard ya say at one time.”

Gene frowned then his face relaxed into a slight smile. “Talkin’ about home can do that you.” He paused. “So tell me about South Philly.”

“Ah, don’t act like ya don’t know every story I’ve eva’ told.” Babe grinned.

“Heffron, just tell me about your goddamn home.” But there was humour in Gene’s voice.

~

Doc was sleeping in a small bunk tucked into a corner when Johnny Martin shook him awake and told him that Jackson was wounded. He jumped out of bed his body switching to automatic as he followed the Sergeant into the basement of that small and broken house in Hagenau, Belgium. The air was full out shouting and Doc could hear Jackson’s voice frantic and wild as if the pain of his injury was being made worse by the crowding and shouting people. 

“Jackson, Jackson, look at me. I need some light, someone give me some light.” Doc’s voice was steady and smooth like a river stone. Jackson’s breath evened out as Doc checked his pulse and began twisting a bandage around his neck. 

“Alright, lets get him out a here.” Doc’s voice still steady and soothing as the men lifted the stretcher and began bearing it to the door. The frantic noises behind them began again and Jackson started seizing up, shaking and choking. Doc grabbed him, trying to get his throat open to get the blood and vomit out but Jackson kept moving. Shaking and jittering, blood bubbling out from between his lips, and then he was still. Doc yanked of his helmet and ran a bloodstained hand through his hair. He felt numb as if the realization hadn’t hit yet. Doc looked up, his gaze finding Babe leaning against the wall. 

Babe met his look, eyes sad and comforting. Johnny Martin came over and laid a blanket over Jackson’s body. Doc got up. Like a machine he picked up his helmet and left the cold claustrophobic basement. He slipped into the alley behind the house and leaned against the wall, his back pressed to the hard brick like his life depended on it. The war was supposed to be over. So many dead, so many blown into so many pieces not even their dog tags were found. There were too many Mucks and Penkalas and Toyes and Guarneres…

“Gene?” Babe was standing at the entrance to the alley.

“Ya?” Doc’s voice was tight.

“Hey, it ain’t your fault.” Babe looked slightly awkward as if unused to giving comfort (his presence was comfort enough, but Gene couldn’t tell him that).

“Fuck it, Babe! This goddamn war is supposed to be ova’ people ain’t supposed to be dyin’ anymore.” Gene turned and kicked the wall at his powerlessness, at the cruelty of sending young people off to war, at everything.

“Gene. Gene. Stop.” Babe hurried over and grabbed Gene by the arm. “Look at me. There’s nothing we can do except fight and pray and maybe one day it’ll be over and we can go home. Until then we just gotta do our jobs and hope we don’t get blasted. We just gotta keep fuckin’ moving, ya know. Put it behind ya.”

Gene sank back against the wall and slid down it, Babe sliding down next to him. 

“Babe?”

“Ya.”

“Your pep talks are shit.” 

“Well thanks Gene. That’s real nice, I come out here to comfort and console ya and ya say my talks are shit.” Babe tried to frown but ended up grinning instead. Gene’s mouth quirked.

“Cigarette?” Babe proffered one and Gene put it in his mouth allowing Babe to reach out and light it. Then Babe took one for himself and for a moment the only sound was that of their breath and the faint cries of pain from the German across the river. Gene didn’t know how long they were sitting there but all of the sudden a heavy weight fell on his shoulder and looking down he saw that Babe had fallen asleep on him. Just like the first time after Jullian had died. He smiled that faint melancholy smile and stubbed out his cigarette. 

There was something about the boy from South Philly, something different. Maybe that’s why Gene had broken the cardinal rule and become friends with him. Maybe it was something else, something that went deeper than that. Maybe he liked Babe too much. And maybe it was in a way that if the other man found out he would never want to speak to or hear from Gene again. If that was the case then Gene wouldn’t tell him, he would just let it fade and ebb away as if it had never happened and they would all be happy and safe. He would let their friendship fall away and he would go back to being Doc, not Gene. He would go back to sitting at the edge of warm circles of friends and he would go back to shutting off his emotions. In other words he would go back to being alone. 

~

Doc’s effort to push away Heffron (he refused to call him Babe) proved harder than he had anticipated. He had gotten so used to Heffron making sure he got his fair share of grub. He had gotten used to the smile and the twinkle in Heffron’s eye, as if the two of them shared a secret no one else knew. And now, now he had to shut that out. Doc made sure to get his food before Heffron could offer. Doc would look away if Heffron tried making eye contact with him. He did everything in his power to push Heffron as far away as possible. 

The thing was Doc also refused to let Heffron’s hurt looks penetrate the wall he had so carefully put up around himself that night in Hagenau. He refused to acknowledge Heffron to the point that Spina came to speak to him as they prepared to move out from another quaint little German town. 

“Doc?” Spina’s voice was cautious.

“Ya?” Doc answered distractedly as he packed up a case of bandages.

“What’s goin’ on with you and Babe? Did he do somethin’?” Spina asked his voice a note below annoyance at Doc’s pig-headed ways.

“He done nothin’ wrong.” Doc’s voice and shoulders tensed at Heffron’s name. 

“Then why you ignorin’ him like there’s no tomorrow?” Spina’s began to sound frustrated, this was Babe a fellow South Philadelphian, a friend. 

“Because Medic’s ain’t supposed to be friends with people.” Doc’s voice was bland and flat.

“Well then why the fuck did you remember that just now, huh? Why the fuck now? As if its ok to make friends with someone and then just decide not to be! Fuck you, Eugene Roe. You should apologize to Babe, it ain’t right and it’s a shitty excuse.” Spina was mad. It showed in the way his body was tense and his fists clenched and unclenched as if he were about to hit Doc. He turned and stormed out the door leaving Doc to finish packing up. 

For a moment after Spina left the room was silent, almost deathly so. Like a vacuum had sucked out the air along with Spina. Then Doc sank to the floor and put his face in his hands. He hated distancing himself from Heffron (not Babe, because how could Babe ever forgive him, especially if he knew the truth), it felt like someone had reached inside his chest and yanked off a chunk of his heart. and it was his fault, not Ba-Heffron's.

When he was with Heffron he could forget that they were at war and he could forget the wraiths of the people he could not save that surrounded him at night and followed him around during the day. When he was with Heffron he was at peace.

Doc ran a hand through his hair and climbed slowly to his feet. Spina was right. He should go apologize.

~  
Doc found Heffron leaning against a red brick building listening to Captain Nixon’s ‘current events’ lecture. As he approached Nixon finished up and dismissed the men. Luz turned back to his poker game, Christenson and Liebgott walked away talking about whether a Thompson or an M1 were better in a tight spot, and Perconte shoved that poor recruit, O’Keefe to his feet. 

“Relief, O'Brien.” Perconte’s voice was crisp and tight. The recruit followed reluctantly behind. 

Doc watched in silence, hanging back until they were all gone and just Heffron remained, looking at Doc with a blank expression on his face. He walked forward, then stopped, not quite knowing how to begin or what to say. 

“Heffron, I-” He began but Heffron interrupted him.

“So I’m Heffron now? No more Babe? Just Heffron?” The other man’s voice was bitter.

“I’m sorry.” Eugene hung his head slightly, not knowing how to apologize for so much. Sorry was like trying to staunch a gaping wound with a piece of tape.

“Well sorry doesn’t fucking cut it.” Heffron replied and turned as if to go.

“Babe, hang on a sec.” Eugene’s voice held a note of desperation and his heart felt like it was trying to contract too much, making his chest cavity begin to ache.

“Ya, what?” Babe stopped, back turned to Eugene.

“I’m real sorry, and shouldn’t have shut you out, it’s just they tell us not to get too close to anyone because they might get injured in combat and we’d have to patch them up, and I don’t eva want to have patch you up.” He knew he was babbling and he shut his mouth before anything else could come out.

“That’s a shitty excuse seein’ as the war’s practically fucking over.” Babe still hadn’t turned around and Doc’s chest felt like it was filling with quicksand.

“I don’t know what else to say.” Eugene said his voice almost a whisper in the shadow of the red brick building. “Babe, I feel too much. I don’t want to see you fall, and have to run over to you and act like everything’s ok, because it wouldn’t be. I know it’s war, and that’s just the way it fucking works, but hell.” He rambled on, too high off the adrenaline of admitance to stop. “Fuck, I just feel too goddamn much. About you, I mean. I ain’t supposed to feel this and it’s wrong and tried to make it go away but it don’t wanna. I just-”

He was cut short as Babe turned swiftly around and dragged him out of sight into a tiny alcove in the red brick. Babe was so close their chests were practically touching and Eugene’s (because he still felt miserable about this whole thing, so he was Eugene not Gene or Doc, just Eugene) back was pressed into the rough stone’s behind him. He couldn’t look at Babe, his head hung low and shame filled. A hand slid into his hair and brought his head up until he was looking into the bright blue of Babe’s eyes. 

They were filled with something both terrifying and exhilarating and the feeling of sinking in his chest stopped and then began swelling. There was something there, something so uniquely _theirs_ that it was beautiful. 

And that was when Babe kissed him. Softly and gently Babe’s mouth found Gene’s (because he was forgiven), their lips slid together, sweetly and unquestionly . The feeling in his chest finally broke and he felt like he was going blank, the only thing running through his head was a chorus of “Babe, Babe, Babe.” Gene’s hand went into Babe’s hair and he tugged and tried to pull him even closer. He thought, maybe, that through all of their layers of clothing he could feel Babe’s heart beating just as fast as his own.

When, at last, Babe pulled away, he rested his forehead on Gene’s. 

“Gene, just don’t eva’ ignore me again ok? It hurt like hell and shit, I don’t wanna to lose anyone else, least of all you. You’re too important.” Babe’s eyes stared earnestly into Gene’s as if begging him to say he would be careful and try not to die.

Gene kissed the corner of Babe’s mouth. “I ain’t plannin’ on dyin’ anytime soon.”

“Good.” Babe hugged Gene, real tight, face pressed into Gene’s neck, arms locked tightly around the other man’s waist. Gene rested a hand on Babe’s head and smiled, a small happy satisfied smile. 

~

Gene couldn’t remember the last time he had been that happy. It was like the feeling he had gotten when Babe had first kissed him, but it never went away and he felt like he couldn’t stop smiling (especially at Babe, because now they had a secret that was theirs). Whenever they could catch a quiet moment alone, they would go as far as they could without being caught. It didn’t help that he was staying with Spina at Battalion HQ and Babe was staying with Easy, but it made every stolen second or kiss count more than ever.

Landsburg was a quiet town with quiet people, that let them have their houses without too much fuss. It was warm enough to set up a poker game outside and they all laughed at Luz’s longing expression as he set out on patrol with Perconte and Randleman and a few of the others including O’Keefe (who was still catching hell from the rest of the guys). 

Gene and Babe were playing poker with Spina and Liebgott, Gene and Babe’s thighs pressed tight under the table and knowing twinkle’s in their eyes when Perconte came running back, panting, kinda off color and looking for the Major. It wasn’t an hour after that that the order for them to get into the trucks came. No one knew what was going on except that Perconte’s patrol had found something so unusual that it required all of them. 

The feeling of foreboding curled in Gene’s stomach like a snake as soon as he smelled it. The unmistakable, all too familiar smell of rotting corpses. He look at Babe who was sitting next to him and the other man shrugged, but Gene could tell from the set of his shoulders that he was just as anxious as he was. 

The barbed wire came into focus first and then the corpses that were the sources of the smell and as the truck stopped Gene became Doc. It was as if as soon as he saw the walking skeletons that had once been men he again donned his job as a Medic. He hopped off the truck and immediately jogged into the camp. He found Spina and the replacement Medic.

“Priorities. We need those in the worst condition to the front. Find anyone who looks like they need savin’.” His voice had returned to the clipped tone he associated with Bastogne. The two nodded and headed off.

As soon as the new order came in telling them all to get the men back in the camp Doc frowned but obeyed reluctantly. These men deserved better than having go back into the place of their imprisonment. He heard Liebgott’s voice crack as he told the prisoners, in German, what the men knew already. No one judged him when afterward Liebgott sad down and cried. Doc understood in a strange way, Liebgott was a Jew like most of these people. Had he been in Germany he would have been in one of these camps too.

When the Medical division finally came in Doc volunteered to help. He’d would do as much as he could. These were people, torn from their lives and families, tortured and forced to endure beyond anything he could imagine. Things like this should never be done to any human being. Ever. 

Doc helped ration food. Handing it out spoon feeding those that were too weak to stand or even sit up. He began talking in French, even though it still reminded him of Renee, saying anything that might sound reassuring. Once he was gently holding a cup to one man’s lips and speaking softly in French when the man replied in kind. Giving him a weak “Merci.” When Doc asked why the man was here the man replied with the french word for ‘queer.’ Doc nodded and continued on to the next person, but his heart was in his mouth.

Queers. Did that mean that he and Babe would have been here not just Liebgott? Doc swallowed and returned to feeding the next person. His mind was not there. He felt like he had when he was trying to apologize to Babe. His stomach felt queasy and his chest felt like it was trying to contract too much. It was as if he was on the edge of hyperventilating, but not quite getting there. 

Time passed too quickly in the camp and pretty soon he was helping some of the men to bed. Beds with sheets and warm coverings and a small amount of milk. Then he went back to those under urgent care to see what else he could do to help. It was hard to recognize when you couldn't do anymore, hard to give up, backing down to the inevitable. The stench of death and evil filled every pore in his body when Babe finally found him.

“Aw shit Gene! This ain’t healthy for ya, come on lets get ya some food and a bed.” Babe’s eyes were filled with concern, his forehead creased with worry. Doc felt so tired, so drawn out and spread thin that he didn’t resist when Babe led him to the truck that he had arrived on and helped him up. His brain was all foggy and they only thought that kept twisting through his mind was; what if that was me...or Babe? He buried his face in Babe’s shoulder and tried to forget the awful stench of death and the hollow eyed men and boys and the Frenchman whispering the word for ‘queer.’ Babe’s arm snaked around his shoulder tight and reassuring and Gene finally fell asleep.

When the truck stopped outside the house that Babe was staying in he shook Gene gently awake. 

“Come on Gene, lets get some food in ya.” Babe’s voice was soft so as not to startle Gene to bad. 

Gene’s eyes opened blearily and he stared at the unfamiliar house before him. “I ain’t sleepin’ here, I’m up a battalion.”

“I’m sure they won’t mind sparing ya for one night.” Babe said and smiled. Gene frowned and slid off the truck. 

“If you insist.” He said and followed Babe into the silent house. Spiers had posted a watch earlier and Luz and Perconte were manning the door, smoking and talking quietly. They nodded as the the two walked passed. 

Babe found some left over K-Ration stew in the kitchen and spooned it into a bowl that he handed to Gene.

“Eat.” He said firmly, his brow still slightly creased with worry. Gene looked at him and first time all day the corners of his mouth twitched upward. 

“You becomin’ my mama, Babe?” Gene said and took a bite of stew. 

“Na, but if I don’t fuckin’ take care o’ ya, you won’t take care o’ ya.” Babe said, his neck flushing red. Gene would have kissed him if he didn’t think he stunk like death and hell personified. He stared down at the stew, the brown beans and K-Ration crackers and small meat they must have found somewhere. Suddenly he didn’t feel like eating.

Babe sat down on the bench next to him and put his hands on the table and then rested his head on them. “Gene, the stew ain’t for staring at.”

“Babe.” His voice was tight.

“Ya.”

“I met a queer today.” 

“You’re bullshitting me, where?” 

“At the camp.”

“Oh.” Babe’s face changed from worry to anger. “Those fuckin’ nasty goddamn sons of bitches.”

“That could have been either of us.” Gene’s voice was so quiet Babe almost didn’t hear it.

“Hey, we ain’t queers. At least I ain’t.” Babe’s voice was slightly indignant and his head had come off his hands in righteous anger.

“Well then what do we call what we’re doin’?” Gene sounded exasperated and tired.

“Bein’ a queer is when a man, ya know, carries a torch for other guys, I don’t. They're poofs. That's what we called 'em. I ain’t a queer, are you?” Babe’s voice was careful as though he was dancing on needles.

“No.” Gene took a cautious bite of stew to avoid looking a Babe. 

“Then you ain’t a queer.” Babe watched Gene eat, his head resting on his hands. The feeling in Gene’s stomach eased away and he finished the rest of his stew in silence. 

“I need a shower.” Gene said as he rinsed out the bowl and spoon. It was weird not using his mes kit.

“It just so happens that there’s one in my room.” Babe said from behind him, his voice tense. 

Gene chuckled tiredly. “You tryin’ to get me into your room?” 

“Maybe.” 

“Shower first, and I can’t promise nothin’ I’m tired as hell. Don’t you split with someone?” Gene asked as Babe led him toward the stairs, there hands brushing on the way up. 

“Nope, not really. Not after Julian.” Babe frowned and Gene squeezed his shoulder in sympathy.

When Babe had led Gene into the bathroom and stood there awkwardly in the doorway for a few minutes, Gene suddenly realized that he had no clothes to change into. He poked his head around the door. 

“Babe can I borrow-” He was cut off as his bag was shoved in his face. 

“I got it earlier.” Babe said his face practically a strawberry because of how hard he was blushing.

Gene took his bag and got in the tub, and pulling the shower chord he was immediately assaulted by hot water. Slowly and carefully he washed away the smell of death and decay that had accompanied him out of the camp. When he finally exited the shower and pulled on his spare shirt and skivvies he walked out of the bathroom. His black hair stuck out at all angles and he was much too skinny, but the former had Babe in stitches of laughter. 

“What?” Gene asked exasperated.

“Ya hair.” Babe said between chuckles of laughter. Gene set his stuff on the floor next to Babe’s and looked down in some bemusement at the other man. Babe, finally controlling himself stood and tried to fix Gene’s hair, which made Gene start laughing because this was so ridiculous. Then Babe kissed him. Winding his fingers in Gene’s damp hair, their lips interlocked, they fell toward the bed. Gene ran his finger over Babe’s arms and up to his neck trailing gently across his back, Babe hummed curling toward Gene’s touch. 

“Babe.” Gene sat up. His legs were tangled with Babe’s in the dark room in Germany. “We can’t do this here, we’ll make too much noise.” 

“Fuck you.” But Babe nuzzled his nose into the crook of Gene’s neck. “Then let’s just sleep. I’m so tired I could sleep fa years.”

Gene ran his fingers through Babe’s hair then kissed the top of his head. He was, of course, worried about whether tomorrow they would be discovered wrapped in each other’s arms under tangled sheets, but right at that moment, holding Babe in that dark room in Germany he was glad, and maybe a little more than in love. 

(Someone did see them the next morning. Lipton was surprised but in the back of his mind he knew he had seen it coming and he softly closed the door and let the two sleep.)

~

Zell am See, Austria was beautiful. It was also where Gene finally told Babe that he loved him. They were walking along the edge of the lake and it was late evening. No one was around, they had gone up for an early dinner, and the two were alone on the sand. The sunlight had dimmed and the sky was a flush of pink and orange. They knew they might not be here for too long. The war in the Pacific still raged on and they were needed there. But at that moment it was just quiet. 

“Babe?”

“Ya?” 

“I love you.”

“Love ya too, Gene.” 

It was as simple as that. No wild declaration in the throes of passion (that they couldn’t have because there were too many goddamn people for them to do more than kissing). No letter proclaiming undying love. Just a simple ‘I love you’ on a beach in Austria. Of course that didn’t stop Babe from kissing Gene into near suffocation. 

And then V-J Day happened and at last after two years, they were going home.

~

The entire trip back was blur of alcohol and overexcitement. Gene didn’t get to say goodbye to Babe, who was whisked off by friends the moment the boat landed, so he headed down to the train station, a little hurt and a little more broken and headed home to Louisiana. The entire train ride he couldn’t sleep and kept thinking about things left unsaid and things left undone and he hated himself for not saying or doing them. 

His Maman ran out of the house when she saw him and crashed into his arms. Then his sister and finally his father and they stood outside their house in the Bayou and cried, with happiness and sadness (in Gene’s case). Then Mama discovered how much weight he had lost and dragged him inside to eat fiery Gumbo and tell him what had happened since he had been gone. 

That night laying in his old bed next to his sister’s Gene couldn’t sleep for a long time and finally when he did, he saw the men that he couldn’t save all lined up pointing accusing fingers at him. The Babe appeared and told him in a flat emotionless tone that he didn’t love him and that he was a freak of nature. The next morning he told his mother h was going to find work in New Orleans.

Days turned into weeks and weeks into months and he tried to forget about the red haired, blue eyed boy from South Philly. He got a job with a construction company and worked his ass off earning every penny until he could purchase an apartment of his own, that he would have by himself not sharing at all. 

It was about a month after he moved in that one Friday night there was a knock on the door. He got up slowly from the small couch and opened the door. Standing there, suitcase in hand was Babe. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t write but I ain’t good with words and well-” Gene had yanked him inside before he could go on. 

“Shit Babe, that don’t matter right now.” Babe grinned at him. 

“I was hoping you’d say that.” 

Gene kissed him, not hesitating a second. Babe tasted like alcohol and stale cigarettes and that one thing that could only be Babe. Babe hummed happily against his mouth and Gene was finally home.

**Author's Note:**

> Don't forget to leave a comment on what you think. Thank you :)


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